


Martyr

by Bunchill



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kingdom Hearts III, M/M, Other, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, hmmm how to add tags without spoilers, theory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunchill/pseuds/Bunchill
Summary: What happens when the brightest light falls into oblivion?After sacrificing himself in order to bring Ventus, Xion and Roxas back to reality, Sora fades away, leaving behind nothing but luminescent particles that disappear to the slightest touch. Devasted, Riku and Kairi organize a ceremony to honour their beloved friend’s heroic act. Together with the other guardians of light, they mourn to the ocean’s ears: there’s only but his crown necklace to make that feel real instead of just a dreadful nightmare. Except it happened. There are tears falling from Aqua and Ventus’ dismal eyes, uncontrollable cries from Donald and Goofy, painful expressions from Lea and Xion, loud sobbings from the Princess of Light and the Master of Dawn and an unbelieving look in Roxas’ features. But after a few months — a great grief becomes a distant memory. A great hero becomes a distant memory.Who is Sora again?





	Martyr

ㅤㅤIt didn’t hurt.

ㅤㅤIronically, isn’t it? One would think a sharp blade that transcends the power known by man would make quite a painful cut when it pierces through not only mere flesh and fragile bones, but through tendons and organs, ripping it apart for those parts are so pathetically human-like delicate. If it was necessary to describe the sensation of a Keyblade drilling through your own chest, however, there were a few ways to do so.

ㅤㅤFirst, you feel a strange cold: maybe it’s from the adrenaline draining out your other futile unneeded senses in a battle against yourself; maybe it’s because your heartbeats turned well-nigh unhearable and the bomb of life you carried inside your breast is no longer beeping so feverishly, looking for a solid rest. It spreads through your whole body, that sensation of an incoming and undeniable embrace of dim fate, agitated blood turning into ethereal golden ichor, a goodbye to the mortal world. But you’re no god, child. You’re no special being that deserves to be treated in such high standards in this chaotic cosmos. Even though you’ve made yourself acquaintances of the stars in friendly touches of hugs and peals of laughter, and saved their essences twice in a roll from the creeping darkness, you’re nothing. Even though you turned people’s nightmares into hopeful dreams, you’re but a small part of something bigger. And even though you gave up your dull, ordinary life in order to keep others safe from terrifying monsters — creatures from the deepest abyss that linger in the murkiest corners and under everyone’s beds, waiting for the right time when you’re not there so they can show their teeth to the innocent —, claiming proudly the role of a warrior, guardian and hero, you’re but a boy.

ㅤㅤYet here you are.

ㅤㅤDefying not only gravity as you refuse to bend your knees and bow your head to the weight of your life being taken away by your own sacrificial hands, you do so with your chin up, cerulean of teary mares gazing the cruelty of a cloudless pitch-black sky. O so Invictus you are, Keyblade Wielder! You do not let the agony imbued in your spirit be shown on the mask that is your pitiful face: there are holes growing within your torso and neck, mixtures of meat that go from burnt to torn apart for your inner light is a tempest of uncontrollable fire being unloaded at last.

ㅤㅤThere are high-pitched screams that call for your name, one of a male, one of a female, both in such a harmony that is almost as rhythmical as a duet made out of pure angst. However, at first, you don’t just know what that name means. Is that you they are worried about? Is it you that they call for as they run in the direction of a supernova’s eye? Are you already falling into the void, this quickly already? The cries keep reaching your ear; nearer, nearer, almost palpable they are in their rightful distressing sentiment. It aches your skeleton, it does, scratching the nutrients of it, yet it only gives you more reason to continue. A redhead girl in pink dress comes dangerously close to you — there are countless drops of rainfall in indigo eyes, cheeks so swallowed by the red despair of loss that it creates more profound basins in your bosom than any other pain. The man behind her only knows how to show horror and worry — are you afraid the Sun might vanish, dear silver Moon? — for his eyes are dry in terror and hands are far too shaky out of disbelief for o, how dare you go away in such a way and leave him, leave them, aphotic-like pale?

ㅤㅤYet you must keep going.

ㅤㅤWhen their hands seek for your chocolate locks, an attempt to save and comfort you combined, a calling of remembrance of their companionship, all in one simple act, they say complex words so wholesome that you cannot even understand its syllables because, right now, you only know how to speak the language of the future dead. Dead do not murmur, dead do not talk, they only perish in ways of leaving ashes behind, still not even that you’ll be able to do. But they’re soon far away from you: a shockwave; caused by the reverse day-star that sprouts from your ribs and the destructive determination that sets you disjunct of the rest of reality; makes an impact huge enough to set them flying distant from your self, a black hole that has exactly the negative effect.

ㅤㅤSo you tighten the grip of the sword between your gloved wounded palms, pushing it inward to the point martyred ailment becomes nearly fathomless. A grunt of final pain is nearly muted by your gnashing of teeth, a squeak being all there is to it, so you push it even deeper, deeper, much, much deeper, as deep as your inhibited strength allows you to! Now it hurts, now it hurts, now it hurts so much and so badly that your vision starts to fail you! You’re breathless but you allow yourself to pant as if your lungs were to properly function again to your rushed rescue, but you’re short on oxygen, on hope, for good. Is this the time you let tears run through your skin like lifeless rivers flow a desert? But one of your eyes has already turned into an empty canon of light, so you have nothing left to demonstrate your suffering to the rest of the world, have you? 

ㅤㅤHow cruel was it, to be the one to end yourself! The skin made a horrible sound as if it had a mouth of its own, sorrowing in a scandalous smashed note, the pith became unseeable. Kneaded bits of pores were indiscernible from bones, all of them in a liquid-solid state that its colours were the only thing to distinguish what once was what. The Keyblade’s guard can’t pass through your torso, but the entire weapon crossed you already, the point, the blade, the fuller: it’s all inside you and it’s only then when you allow your legs to shakingly go frail, an opaque thumb of future carcass meeting the ground finally. You hear more shouts, forlornness cracking others’ throats as if they could feel your demise through the wall that separates the living from the to-be-departed.

ㅤㅤIt isn’t as if this is the first time you do this, is it? Back when you were still young and bold, back when you still held the enshrining belief of an innocent dreamer, you did the same thing with a flaky grin drawn on coral lips. Different from what people thought, you were not afraid then — simply due to the fact that ignorance blessed your might. Shadows were abstract concepts to your mind, lascivious penumbras which attacked your body were but fancy wordings of terror stories you once heard when little. Unconquerable and invincible you held yourself, scared of nothing but to be alone and thus, you ran in the direction of darkness’ stomach to be together with them. Although forthwith, you know what awaits you.

ㅤㅤYet you still choose to smile.

ㅤㅤSecond, even if you’re scared, terrified, you turn your bloody yet unbowed head to them, bestowing the crumbs of bravery still left in your damaged shell of a body. Bones are cracking to the weight of the planets being taken from your shoulders, or perhaps it is, in fact, the heaviness of such burdens carried by half a decade that makes your doom go tenuous promptly, dear Atlas. Your carrion holds no dreadful smell barring the flaming of existence: only convulses by fright and anticipation, the curved tips of your mouth left as the only remains of what you once was. How can you showcase a feeling you no longer hold within the spirit, foolish hero? That worthless smirk of paradoxical victory which follows loss? Is it because it’s the number one rule of a childish-like faith, and you want to die fulfilling it ‘til the end reaches your being, even if it will shortly devour your soul with ruthless teeth and savouring tongue of predator? Shall you keep smiling whilst the holes go bigger in and on your anatomy, one of your arms no longer existing already? Shall your throat keep on sobbing in utter secrecy as your gritted teeth muffle the never-heard sounds of agonising despair of this valiant core of crying believer boy? Shall you die like this, staring childhood beloved ones with dead glasses of oceans, lands and skies’ lines meeting, wordless to your act of settled-into-stone-decision? Shall you go, at last, not having cursing in the slightest; in this entirety of life; destiny’s sadism and the tricks beheld by Lady Luck’s hands? Shall you go as a boy whose role was far too cruel? Shall you go now, never having heard from friendly mouths you were their hero? The answer is yes. Always yes, to mirror all of your journeys.

ㅤㅤSprouting from seeds of sunrise, they belatedly start to appear in forms of modest spheres of brimming beans. From the stagnant ground, a flower seems to blossom: blackness covers her in an intimate clothing embrace, nightfall orbs being rubbed by gloved hands as the dark-haired gives her first breath as a panic gasp when eyes meet yours; a nightmare of realness. At the same time, a green light twinkles next to the so-said girl, buzzing like a puzzled in mind Firefly before hurryingly being pulled by an invisible sky force, even if it fights the gravitational forced temptation for the desire of staying close to the campfire that is your body right now. He wants to save you, that broken boy, but the laws of physics are still applying to him so you’ll never know he saw you as a younger brother. But then, it finally comes the time for him to arrive, the special guest. Slightly falling from heaven, his celestial visage is yet unaware of anything. His back is visible to your gone summer skies orbs, bright golden locks of waves tilting to the sides. He looks greater than you remember, is it because you’re on your knees? How funny, it’s like you can feel his confusion; his electric navies are looking at the bloomed flower, wondering why she looks so traumatized and why she o-so-desperately tries to learn how to walk once more. Then, his eyes and ears encounter at last the terminal ache of the princess and the master who are still trying to break the barrier that locks them out of reach from their sanctuary friend. Then, he sees you and you see all of them on you — Xion, Ventus and Roxas, the names of people you gave your heart for. They’re saved and your mission is over.

ㅤㅤYet you know there is no happy ending; not for you.

ㅤㅤThird, it all happens too fast. You see the blonde-locked boy running in your direction; everyone seems to cheer him one in dismay acclamations; steps so large that could jump through abysses, still not that one in specific that set both of you apart. Howbeit, he tried and that was the saddest part, wasn’t it? To watch that beacon of learned optimism dissolved with violent misery bubble within his angelic eyes thanks to you. If you were not about to fade away, if you were not to be eaten by shadowy shades in a duality of abstract and concreteness concepts, if you still had your hoarse vocal chords that can speak even in scroll of Hell’s gate, if you were not about to belatedly rest in this final episode, what would you say to him? What would you do to erase the pain of marked unjust past? What is this? Tears of relief, mingled along the bits of your corpse? Ah, yes, all the things you want to say to him. Where do you even begin?

ㅤㅤ‘you’re a good other and this is why this has to be you’, ‘welcome back home’, ‘hey, go enjoy your next summer vacation’, ‘because you deserve as much as i do to be your own person’, ‘you can be together again’, ‘i’m sorry for everything’, ‘keep on smiling for me’, ‘see you around’… ‘thank you’? None of that seemed enough. None of that seemed right. None of that would reach him. Not only due to the fact that your legs are gone and your thorax is destroyed into pieces of luminescence but as well because the howling of lostness is singing into your ear, sharpening its tunes just for your undeniable arrival.

ㅤㅤNevertheless, your hand is extended to him; if out of an idiotic flare for comfort or an instinct fueled by the depths of your heart’s desire, no one will ken. There are many unsaid words, many far-off memories among the two of you that you wish they’d exist not solely in the realms of dreams. Your solace is that he’ll be able to smile in a sealed future, he’ll be okay. No longer carrying a name which tongue once despised in legitimate hatred, no longer a prisoner of predetermined chains, no longer trapped: sprung to light. Your heart is finally at ease, hero, and your most profound wish is that they all know that. But everything that tanned lips could express, in a thick, dying voice was his name.

ㅤㅤ“Roxas.” It held everything. One calling. Five letters, two sounds, countless meanings. A farewell.

ㅤㅤ“SOR—!!” 

ㅤㅤIn his jittery wan hands, you disappeared. Right when fingertips were about to touch, that’s the moment when you went missing out of the universe; when your whole body and heart vanished from mortal eyes. Shattered in the twinkling of welcoming pulsars, golden light dissipating in melodic crystal sounds while the blackness invaded its fragments, hurriedly engulfing the sparkles for the last gruesome meal. Gone, forever you’re, boy.

ㅤㅤYet you can go almost peacefully now. Let the umbrae come for you, even if you’ll keep on persisting with a smile until oblivion finds its path to you. Let it come for you, even if your soul is terrified for what’s waiting beyond, even if you’re still looking for the surviving roaring courage you used to have when battling, even if all your heart drums is to be with them. Let it come for you, even if this is your last hero’s act.

ㅤㅤFourth, you’re a saviour.

ㅤㅤYet you’d never hear them / him cry for the name you’ve already forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been more than eight years since I last wrote a fanfic. I finally decided to come back to writing fanfiction stories because these ideas, in particular, have been boiling in my mind for a long time, maturing over the months and, before I knew, during one of my university classes, I started writing it passionately. So that’s how I guess I knew I couldn’t really keep it bottled up? Don’t get me wrong, this story is nothing special or different from the other fanfics; it is, simply, one of many ways to express a creative flow or what I think it’d be fun seeing/exploring in the Kingdom Hearts universe! However, I think it’s appropriate to warn that there will be… different touches, I suppose? Heavier themes (violence, trauma, death, grieving) we’ll probably not have the chance to experience in greater depth while we play the games, dramatic scenarios that are fun to explore in stories, more realistic relationships — in other words, I guess I just wanted to bring my thoughts to life in a written story and share it with other people, bringing along a fairly good amount of the good ol’ angst we all know and love.  
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> Any criticism or ideas shall be very well-welcomed. Thank you for your time!


End file.
